The Dancer, Part Two

Part Two

After a whole afternoon of deliberation and trying on countless outfits, I ended up choosing a short gray skirt and a black halter top, feeling as prepared as I would ever be. As one of my instructors always tells me, you have to fully commit to every dance opportunity. That includes outfits. Against my better judgment, I wore my long red hair down. I always, always, always wear it up when I dance, since it tends to get in the way otherwise. But tightly pinning my locks didn’t seem totally appropriate for a party, so I just lightly curled them instead.

One of my friends dropped me off at the party, and I could tell that it was already in full swing by the time I got there. I walked up the driveway, ignoring the two people I saw making out against a car. I walked to the front door and knocked. Then rang. Then rang again. After a minute or so of waiting, I just open the unlocked door and let myself in.

I was greeted by loud music and a packed house, with dim, flashing lights from different rooms of the Davis’s mansion-like home. I carefully made my way through the various rooms, almost getting trampled once by several drunk people running down the hall. I finally found Autumn in the kitchen, pouring shots for herself and a few other girls.

“Oh, there she is!” Autumn exclaimed. The blonde girl smiled, pointing me out to the other three. I thought my outfit was revealing, but Autumn was literally wearing black short shorts and an emerald green bra, leaving nothing to the imagination, “Wow, Bella! I almost didn’t even recognize you!”

“Hey, Autumn,” I said, feeling a little bit out of place. Autumn seemed in control for the most part, but her friends were definitely drunk already. “You really need a dance host at a party like this?”

“What’s a dance host?” one of Autumn’s friends asked. Two of them giggled at the phrase, and the last girl just looked confused, “Is that the prudish word for stripper…?”

“I am not a stripper!” I snapped. Drunk or not, it was insulting. It didn’t matter that she was a stranger; I wasn’t about to have my major interpreted like that. “I’m just here to dance, like Autumn told me.”

“But-“

“Girls, relax,” Autumn told them. She walked over to me, taking my hand before I could object, “Bella, come with me.”

“Autumn, I-” I started to protest, but it was pointless. She gave a sharp tug on my hand, walking me through the house. Reluctantly, I let her guide me. I could hear her friends laughing about something, but I chose to ignore them. I followed her through another room with two different couples making out (such a classy party), and then I was walked upstairs, presumably to Autumn’s room.

“Paige, out. Now,” Autumn harshly said. A brunette girl I vaguely know from high school was sitting on the bed, not so subtly flirting with two different guys. She didn’t look too happy about it, but reluctantly took her two companions and left the room. Once Paige was gone, Autumn closed the door, “Bella . . . you can call it whatever you want, but you do know you’re stripping tonight, right?”

Wait, what? “Umm, no I’m not.” What else was I supposed to say? I half hoped she was trying to pull a crappy joke, but the look on her face said otherwise.

“Oh my God, are you serious? Were you listening when we talked on the phone . . .?” Autumn rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms as she stood across from me.

“I said dance host!” I said, feeling more offended than when the other girl called me that. Why on earth would Autumn consider me a viable choice to call if she needed a stripper?

“Bella, you said you were fine flaunting your body, and you said you were fine giving dances to anyone who asked,” she started explaining it, almost like I was a child. Technically I did say those things, but in a completely different context, “Everyone here was promised a stripper, and they all paid for it already. I could have found somebody else if you said no, but now it’s too late. Way too late, Bella.”

“Yeah, but I-” I started to object, but Autumn just kept talking as if she didn’t even hear me.

“Aren’t you a professional dancer?” Autumn put her hands on her hips, looking annoyed, “Because bailing the night of is pretty unprofessional. And shitty, for that matter. It makes me look terrible as a host. Are you really going to leave me without a dancer tonight?”

“I . . .” I hesitated, my head spinning. For years, I had always shown up early to every practice and recital, and never once left any of my coaches or partners hanging. But did this count, if I didn’t know what I was agreeing to? Stripping was degrading and, personally, it would be embarrassing to dance in front of others in a setting like this, even clothed. But . . . I technically gave a commitment. It was difficult to think clearly when Autumn was staring daggers at me. “How far . . . how far would I have to strip . . .?” I asked, feeling the heat rush to my face.

“Have you really never been to a strip club?” she asked. She at least seemed a little relieved that I was considering it. “Down to your bra and underwear, I guess, if you didn’t bring anything more exciting. And, like you agreed to, you have to dance alone and give lap dances.”

Again, not what I said. I thought I was dancing with people, not giving people dances. “For how long?” I reluctantly asked, swallowing my pride. I would treat this professionally. I had danced in sheer clothes before, so this would be fine. Incredibly awkward, due to so many old classmates being around, and a bit degrading, but fine. Totally fine.

“Thank God,” Autumn said, smiling. She dropped her hands back down to her sides, “You need to dance from 11:15 until midnight. Then you can go home. Okay?”

Forty-five minutes. That was a lot of time to be dancing solo. Or giving lap dances . . . I almost changed my mind, but couldn't ignore Autumn's stare that was somehow both hopeful and judgmental all at the same time. Despite leaving the hierarchy of high school, I couldn’t help but give into a popular girl’s request.

I let out an exhale, giving in, “Alright, fine,” I said, still uncertain. I was not 100% okay with it, but Autumn made a point I couldn’t ignore. I would never leave anyone hanging, not even for something as awful as this, “But no videos, okay?”

“You’ll be our stripper?” Autumn asked. She gave me an expectant look.

“I just said I would, Autumn.”

“I need to hear you say it,” she rolled her eyes, “I don't want to get people's hopes up. Are you committed or not, Bella?”

“I . . .” I hesitated. Ugh, it felt so gross to say out loud! But after an uncomfortably long period of silence, I mumbled, “I’ll be your stripper.”